


Lead me not into temptation

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, F/M, Priest Castiel, fire eater Meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg was leaning closer still, her lips feather light against his neck above the collar, heat of her breath shivering down his spine and swelling in his chest. There was a sudden recklessness sparking in him, desire, and he’d never known want like what she showed him, a promise of power and free will. His protests were weak and felt obligatory on his tongue when she knelt in front of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead me not into temptation

The town of Temperance was a small, close knit community perched on the edge of the Gulf and stretching back along a Louisiana bayou. Everyone knew everyone’s names, and all their secrets and all their sins. Most of the men worked as fishermen, and most of the women raised children, but there were those that tended the shops along the two lane wide block of main street. There was only one of most things in Temperance, one grocer, one butcher, one barber, one church. Everyone in the town, all few hundred of them, passed through the church at least once a week during the daily sermons, thrice daily on the weekends.

Castiel had never known anything outside of Temperance, and although it was questionable whether he was born in the town, it was where he had grown up. He was raised in the small orphanage attached to the church, and he never left the safety of his childhood home, staying to study and become a pastor there as an adult. Although his favorite Father, Father Joshua, had passed some years ago, his gardens still flourished in the fields behind the church because Castiel tended them. Father Michael had taken the position of head Father, and although he was a more severe, stern man, Castiel knew he was a just and devout man.

Currently, Castiel was armed with a hoe, rake and spade, the black sleeves of his shirts rolled up to the elbow, waging battle on the weeds trying to overtake their garden. There were no clouds in the dry summer sky, and the sun was merciless. Castiel had allowed himself a wide brimmed straw hat to shield himself from the sun as he worked, but his shirt was plastered to his back with sweat while he kneeled on the earth and pulled at stubborn weeds with his bare hands, scratches and dirt up his forearms from thistly plants. He couldn’t fault them their thorns, they were only trying to protect themselves.

A shadow was cast over the patch of squash he was tending. Wiping his hands on his thighs Castiel rose to his feet, turning and giving a small nod to Father Michael.

"Father Castiel, please come see me in my office after you’ve finished your work. "

Michael glanced at his arms.

"And clean up first of course."

“Yes Father Michael.”

Michael turned and left, leaving Castiel to his questions. He spoke with Michael regularly, about sermons and upcoming church events. But their conversations were always a piece of the routine that was so regular in his life that it was a muscle memory. This was outside routine. It must be a matter of great irritation to Michael. Castiel was not finished with his work, but he gathered his tools and cleaned himself off to go right away. Michael did not like to be kept waiting.

Rolling his sleeves back down and attempting to flatten his hair at least somewhat, stubbornly spiked up from his hat and his sweat, Castiel tapped lightly on the door to Michael’s office. Technically, it was the office to the church, and all pastor’s gave private guidance there for parishioner’s who sought face to face counsel. A quiet ‘come in’ beckoned him, and Castiel let himself in, shutting the door behind him, settling on the small hard wood chair in front of the desk.

Michael passed a small handful of rumpled flyers to him over the desk. They were brightly colored drawings of scantily clad women with lewd smiles advertising for a traveling circus. Castiel was quite taken aback, some of them appeared to be wearing no more than underclothes, and one was heavily tattooed, proudly displaying a satanic goat’s head on her stomach as she spewed fire. There was another with a snake twisting around her neck and arms, one with her head floating beside her, one holding fire in her palms, one who appeared to be a mermaid and Castiel wondered if that could possibly be real or if was merely a parlor trick. It had to be. It was unnatural.

Michael’s face was hard set when he said, “They’ve been passing these around town, in the main street where anyone can see them, where children can see them. This, this den of iniquity that calls itself a circus is coming to town this weekend, they’ll be occupying the field where the fresh market normally is on Sunday. Now, I’m organizing a picnic on Saturday with wholesome activities for our flock to enjoy. I want you to go out and pass these around.”

Michael pushed a stack of flyers over his desk that decried the circus as perverse and immoral, and provided information for the activities the church would be sponsoring as an alternative.

"I agree these look rather, shocking, perhaps they are merely meant as a lure, we have seen traveling circuses in this town before Father Michael, I do not see why we should begrudge people distraction from their difficult lives."

"Any that have passed through here before have had attractions such as petting zoos, ferris wheels, pie baking contests. All perfectly acceptable. But this, this is the devil’s work Castiel, they are trying to tempt our flock, and make no mistake they will plant seeds of doubt with their carnal indulgences, we cannot allow this to happen. It is our duty to protect our flock."

“Yes Father Michael.”

"I would go out with you myself, but I already have plans to travel to Prudence to discuss other church matters with Father Raphael. I’m sure you will see to the matter satisfactorily."

“Of course Father Michael, you need not worry.”

Father Michael gave Castiel a small smile and a nod, turning back to the papers he was buried in. Castiel gathered his stack of flyers and took his leave. It was already late on a Tuesday, and he had a sermon to give Wednesday. Castiel assumed the circus would most likely be in on Thursday to set up for their first night Friday, so he decided he would go out then when people would be milling about and curious.

-

On Thursday Castiel made the hour walk from church to the open field where the market was held. It was early afternoon by the time that he arrived, the sun just past it’s zenith. As he had suspected, the circus was rolling in, long lines of colorful caravans filling in to the field and people bustling about with supplies, erecting massive tents. It was chaotic and noisy, so of course there was a large crowd loitering at the low wood rail fence around the field watching, propped up or with their legs swinging off the simple long rails.

They all recognized him, and he stood out in his black shirts and slacks with his white collar among the floral print dresses and the brown and white plainclothes the men wore. Many greeted him amiably, chatting and eager about the circus, although some did appear concerned and were grateful to take several of his fliers to pass out among their own circles. After several hours, much of the crowd had dispersed clutching a flier and some red faced from the admonishment. Castiel could understand the people’s excitement at something new and different, but Michael was right, it was their responsibility to keep their flock from straying into temptation.

Around supper time Castiel was considering leaving for a brief while to go down to the main street and find supper. There were hardly anyone left at that time, most probably gone for their own suppers as well. Castiel was walking along the fence when three circus workers crossed the field towards him and lifted themselves over the fence. He had thought they were men come to scare him away but up closer he realized they were women wearing trousers and button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up. When he stopped in front of them, he recognized that they were three women from the scandalous fliers. He remembered their names, or at least what they called themselves. The one with the tattoos was glaring at him, Meg, and there was the other who was the snake charmer, Casey, and at the forefront was the blond who held fire, Lilith. She spoke first.

"Well hello Father! Come to welcome us to town have you? Or are you here to scare away your little sheepy sheeps so they don’t come and have any fun tomorrow?"

Lilith plucked a few of his fliers from where he was holding them to his chest, passing them to the other two women as they snickered and whispered to each other about the contents.

Casey nudged Meg, pointing to something on her flier. “Oh, look a picnic on Saturday, doesn’t that sound so much more interesting. I’m sure there will be no gluttony at their picnic, I’m sure they’re all very well restrained.”

Meg nodded and hummed in agreement. “Oh well you see anything you do on church grounds must be holy, besides, even if you do something naughty, you can earn your forgiveness on your knees.”

All three burst out in giggles, and Castiel had never met a group of more frightening women in his life. They were loud, and crass, and he was out of his element.

"I beg your pardon, it’s not that the church is attempting to decry having any fun, you know we have had circuses here before, I’ve gone to them, it’s simply that, well, those fliers you are passing around town are scandalous. I do hope those were meant to titillate only and that you don’t prance around in your underthings."

Lilith rolled her eyes, “Underthings, they’re costumes silly, and it’s not like we’re naked.”

"It’s improper."

Castiel glanced around nervously as they seemed to be closing in on him, Lilith stepping closer in the front, Casey and Meg penning him in on the sides, his back to the fence.

Casey smiled at him, the one with the snake. She asked, “Do you know what the original sin was father.”

"Of course."

"Well?"

"It was to disobey our Father."

"No, no. Original sin was curiosity. It was hunger, for knowledge."

Castiel squinted at her, thinking about this, he’d never once considered it that context. It was over simplified, incorrect, yet -

"And what did original sin give us?"

He was being led on, Castiel refused to play their game.

"It gave us thought, freedom. What God so feared for us to possess was the ability to see more than what he showed us, to know more than what he told us. He was disappointed in us when he couldn’t control us anymore."

"He was protecting Adam and Eve, keeping them safe and sheltered from the hardships of the world. Why would you want to abandon that?"

Meg was closer than he thought when she spoke on his other side. “If you would follow God’s orders blindly without the capacity to understand what or why he commands you, do you not see how this would be dangerous, if you didn’t have the ability to understand for yourself?”

"I don’t understand how this conversation applies to my desire to keep my flock safe from your wicked temptations."

Lilith smiled like it was the most obvious thing. “Because they should be able to see what they want to see, and to think for themselves. Same goes for you, collared boy.”

A dainty hand reached up and he leaned back but Castiel had no where to go, and she tugged playfully on the white collar around his throat. Castiel frowned at her.

Meg placed a hand on his arm and he didn’t understand why they were so close, so insistent. “You should come and see the show Father.”

"I won’t."

Casey pouted at him. “Is it just our outfits that offend? Is it our smiles? Is it our independence?”

Lilith had to tip toe on her feet to come up to just his chin, wide eyes watching him. “Do you want to know how each of us came to be employed here Father? They’re interesting stories.”

"I assume that your inherent immorality attracted you to such depravity."

Lilith was rocking back and forth on her feet, arms clasped behind her back. “Oh is that it? Our inherent immorality. Hm, yes, that must be it. So when my husband gambled away all of his wages week after week instead of paying rent or buying groceries and I was starving, unable to find work for being a woman, when I burned down our small shack of a house with him in it, it was my own inherent immorality, and no fault of his own.”

Castiel was too shocked to respond, by her brazen forwardness and the content of her story both, uncertain if he should believe even a word of these serpent tongued women. Casey batted her eyelashes at him. “I suppose it was my own inherent immorality when my husband drank himself stupid and beat me night after night until I put arsenic in his liquor and ran away.”

Meg nodded, humming her assent. “Yes, of course it must have been my own inherent immorality when I had a miscarriage after my husband beat me and I slit his belly open in the middle of the night. Because we are just women, and we should be grateful to serve men and pay penance for the sin that we’ve brought upon ourselves. Is that it father?”

"Is all that really true? Are you all, have you all run away from crimes you’ve committed?"

Lilith frowned, “Is that what you’re concerned about, the lawfulness of our actions.”

Meg rolled her eyes and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. “Every word is true. I tried finding employ elsewhere, but women’s wages are a pittance of men’s, this circus is our sanctuary, we all take care of each other, but we are our own masters here.”

"Though your circumstances are unfortunate I cannot condone your actions."

"Tell you what Father", Meg took a step back and leaned against the fence, "Why don’t you come back with us for a while, we’ll be practicing tonight, you should see for yourself and make up your own mind."

Lilith lit up at the suggestion, clapping her hands a few times, “Yes, yes, come play with us, you’ll love it, you’ll see.”

Castiel’s frown deepened, but there was a miniscule rebellious desire to know for himself, a small fierce spark of curiosity. He followed the three women back to the largest tent where they led him inside.

-

It was a bustle of noise and activity inside, thick muscled men carrying props, slender women in barely any clothes tumbling around practicing acrobatics. There was a large tank of glass off to one side full of water with a platform at the top where a brunette was wiggling into what looked like a fish’s tail. Ruby, it was the mermaid, ah, it was a costume after all. The woman waved to them as they entered and yelled, “Lili!”

Lilith detached from their small group and skipped over to the tank, climbing up to the platform and giving Ruby a kiss before helping with the costume.

There were all manner of different people here, different colored skins and ink covered skin, wearing flamboyant costumes, folding themselves in half or seeming to float their heads in the air before them. It was overwhelming. But what shocked Castiel was that it didn’t feel menacing at all, or sinister, everyone seemed to be boisterous and happy.

Meg was steering him to a small bench on one side of the tent near a raised wood platform.

"Sit tight father, we’ll be back in a minute."

She winked at him before slinking off with Casey. Castiel watched the pandemonium awestruck. He hadn’t even realized he was entranced by the acrobats until Meg was unpacking a small case of tools on the platform. Casey had taken a spot further away where the traffic was lighter, her snake wrapped around her neck and arms, and she was swaying her hips an curving her arms up in a dance that mirrored a snake’s elegant agility.

Meg was wearing the revealing costume that had been advertised in the flyer, stretches of colorful tattooed skin bare. Castiel found himself curious of what and why she had decorated her skin like that, what could possibly possess a human to want to. But she caught his gaze lingering and gave him a sly smile, for which he flushed and averted his eyes.

"I don’t believe there would be such opposition to your circus if you were to wear decent clothing. Can’t you do that in a skirt?"

Meg lifted two chains she held in each hand that had what looked like little metal balls on the end, swinging them back and forth idly.

"Really? Does swinging around fire in a frilly skirt sound like a good idea to you?"

"Oh. Oh I hadn’t thought of it like that."

"If you really want to see it you’ll have to come to the show, though. I don’t light these for practice."

Castiel nodded, watching silently as she began a routine with practiced ease. He found he couldn’t look away from the sway of her body and the graceful way she controlled her tools. Castiel had always made it a point to appreciate the beauty in his Father’s creation, in the softness of flower petals, in the trill of a songbird, in the simple joy of a crisp apple, but he’d never let himself consider the beauty of the human body. He repeated in his head words he’d heard his whole life, that it shouldn’t be beautiful, that it was a shameful thing, a sinful thing.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a loud clattering of something metal being dropped in another part of the tent, jumping on his bench and looking about. Unfortunately, it had distracted Meg slightly as well, though she barely twitched in her concentration one of the chains swung a little too close and the ball clipped her against her cheek. She swung her tools around and let the momentum die in an unobstructed path by her sides, setting them back in the case and gingerly touching her cheek. Castiel saw she was bleeding and stood to assist.

"Are you all right?"

"It’s just a knick. I’ll clean it up, I’ll be right back."

“Is there anything I can do?”

She looked at him with appraising eyes and he was wondering if he had said something wrong, but she smiled and gestured after herself for him to follow.

"Of course father, why don’t you come help."

Meg weaved through the throngs of people and past a flap in the tent to what appeared to be a small dressing room. There were rows of costumes hanging off racks, all sequins and feathers and shiny bright colors. Along the back edge were tables and mirrors set up with more brushes and vials and compacts of powder than Castiel could identify. Meg retrieved a small basin of water and a rag, sitting at one of the desks and dabbing at her cheek. Castiel hovered, uncertain what he could do.

"Does that hurt?"

Meg reached for a small tin and unscrewed the lid, smearing a dab of a strong herbal tincture across her cheek.

"No, its barely a scratch, see the bleeding has stopped already."

Meg stood and turned back around to him. Castiel was hyper aware that there was no one else in the dress room at the moment, and he found it odd. They were standing too close together again, he could feel the heat from her body.

"Good."

Meg had an amused smile on her face.

"You can look at them, I don’t mind."

Castiel hadn’t even noticed that his gaze kept darting down to study the ink sprawling across her skin. He found it slightly disturbing, yet intriguing.

"Do you…. aren’t these marks Satanic."

"Yes."

"Why would you mark yourself so profanely?"

"I doubt my devil is the same as yours father. For me, he is an ideology of strength, of freedom."

"It is corruption, sin."

“It’s sin to make my own choices, be in control of my life?”

Castiel frowned and shook his head, taking a step back from her but then a small table pressed against the backs of his thighs and again he had no where else to go as Meg stepped with him.

“God’s love is it’s own sort of freedom, his law is to protect us.”

“God couldn’t protect me. Only I can protect myself.”

Meg slid one of her feet in between Castiel’s standing closer still and brushing her hips against him, lifting one of his hands and placing it on her side, skin smooth and warm. She moved his hand along the curving patterns of her tattoos, and he let her.

"Tell me, can you even see the bars of your cage?"

"What do you mean?"

"You live your whole life hiding behind your book, do you not see the injustices, the horrors, committed in your God’s name? "

"Man is fallible, God cannot be blamed for the misunderstandings of his children."

"Man, hm. What of women then?"

"What of?"

"You lay the burden of original sin on us, you cast us down as inferior, you shackle us with that guilt and use it against us. Is that really fair? What God of love and compassion cannot forgive his children for their hunger."

“He has, he has sent his only son Jesus Christ to take our burden from us and allow us this forgiveness.”

She laughed, low and bitter then. “But still you won’t let it go.”

"I don’t understand."

“No, you wouldn’t. Yet you came in to the tent today to watch us. Why is that?”

"To decide for myself."

"Yes. It was curiosity, it was independent thought. You should be careful father, these things will lead you down a dangerous path."

"What path is that?"

"Making your own choices can be very tricky business, especially if you’ve been following orders your whole life."

"I have made my own choices before."

"Have you? Name one."

He made a choice to move his hand along her waist, palm splayed, circling around her back, fingers tracing up the dip of her spine. She was close enough that Castiel could feel her breath against his neck, could smell her - sawdust and herbs - and he was trying not to let his gaze linger on the bare expanses of her chests rising and falling with her breath. She placed a hand on his arm, warm through cotton, fingers curling lightly around him. Her choice. To come this close. Why. And why did it make Castiel wonder about his choice, when had he ever made a choice before this. It was easy to think in a life without any physical reminders, no leashes or cages, that he was free. It was a basic assumption of the state of one’s existence until shown otherwise.

He was an orphan not by his choice, he was given to the church because there was no where else for him to go, he completed his studies and he behaved because that was what decent young men did, he remained at the church to work because that was were he had been his entire life. There was no force there, no coercion, but he wondered if he had chosen it for himself or simply followed the path of least resistance. It was all he had known, the church and this small town, and he was comfortable in the familiarity. What he was taught, what he learned from scripture and from his elders, it was taken for granted as absolute truth. It wasn’t that hard when everyone he knew were good God fearing people that confirmed the rightness of his life.

Castiel was not an ignorant man, he was aware of the world outside their small town, information brought in papers and books, but it was an abstract sort of knowledge that did not relate to his life. The hardships of the external world, of those in positions not his own, though regretful, they held no consequence to him. What was it to have choice forced upon oneself, how could one decide between options of suffering and sin. What sort of choice was that.

Meg was leaning closer still, her lips feather light against his neck above the collar, heat of her breath shivering down his spine and swelling in his chest. There was a sudden recklessness sparking in him, desire, and he’d never known want like what she showed him, a promise of power and free will. His protests were weak and felt obligatory on his tongue when she knelt in front of him.

"Don’t."

Meg looked up at him with such a sweet countenance, nimble fingers behind the waistband of his slacks, pulling at the buckle.

"Please don’t."

He ached with it, finding it difficult to breathe, difficult to move away when he wanted to move closer. He’d touched himself before, very few times, and it was tainted with guilt and shame, habits of denial of penance stiff in his spine when she opened his pants and pulled his hard flesh out to hold in the smooth curve of her palm, lips pressed to the sensitive skin and he gasped.

He tried to deny it, to will it away. He thought of those who had knelt before him to take communion and how it was a pure thing, trust and benediction and faith, there was no reason seeing her lashes flutter as her eyes swept up at him should hold such sway. He wanted to be filled with God’s love but felt nothing except hollow longing, wanting her, wanting the warmth against his body, wanting so fervently it was painful.

"Oh God, please don’t, I can’t."

Grasping him lightly in the circle of her hand, she licked at him like she knew just what she wanted, like she knew what he needed, but they were secrets to him.

“Your protests are weak father, you could leave if you wanted to. I will do as I please. Make your choice.”

Breath along fevered hot skin made him shudder, her hand moving slowly, mouth opened she held him on the tip of her tongue, not giving any more, waiting. Castiel pushed his fingers through her soft waved hair, stuck between wanting and shame, years of Father Michael’s words in his head reprimanding him and when Castiel realized it was not his own thoughts, his own voice telling him no, he pushed his hips forward, sliding into her mouth as she sealed her lips around him.

One hand still gripping him where her mouth wasn’t, another hand on his thigh lightly, she slid her mouth down on him with slow, small movements, serpent’s tongue making his sanity unravel. He felt petrified there, heat coiling in his belly, fevered hot under his collar, the flush beneath his skin like a sickness. Tangling his fingers in her hair, both hands pushing the hair from her face and cradling her head, she watched him, brown eyes dark and deep holding him captive with her red painted lips staining his skin. He knew he could wash her from his body, her scent and her make up, but she was under his skin too, behind his ribs, a seed planted in his head and he wanted to cultivate it, to water it and watch it blossom. It was overwhelming and terrifying, too intense and too sudden, breaking through him and popping his seams.

Meg smiled, sat back on her heels, she wiped the back of her hand on her mouth and swallowed with a grin on her face, buckling his pants back up and standing so her whole body was pressed against him, a warm weight along his heaving chest. He couldn’t breath. He could smell salt and bitter on her lips when she tilted her face up to kiss his jaw.

Castiel let his hands hold loosely at her hips. “What am I to do now.”

“Decide for yourself father.”

“I don’t, I can’t wear the collar after this. How could I.”

Meg reached up and pulled at the white band around his throat until it unsnapped in the back and slid out from the black cloth of his shirt. She set it aside, fingers slipping several buttons undone, kissing his neck.

“You don’t have to.”

“What have I done, what sort of person am I if I can betray everything I’ve made of my life.”

Castiel didn’t expect answers, he didn’t know why he said these things, whispered quiet in the space between them like confessions. 

"If you’ve fallen so far, so fast, your perch must not have been very sturdy, or comfortable."

“What am I to do.”

“There’s always a need for strong men to work here. Have you ever wanted to see the world outside this town? Come with me. Come see for yourself.”

Castiel reached up where the barest loss of his white collar made him feel suddenly light, free, endless expanses of possibility stretching in his mind’s eye, and Meg, her knowing eyes and colorful skin, her wicked smile and graceful limbs. He wanted. Castiel made his choice.


End file.
